My journalism journey part 18

My little brother, Ray, and I embarked on our journey to Aberdeen, South Dakota, on a sticky Fourth of July morning in 1989. I had been hired as a sports writer at the Aberdeen American News, the first daily newspaper to take a chance on me. I was 34 years old with 10 years of experience under my belt. But this would be my first daily.

The cats were sedated but meowing in their carriers in the back seat of the Subaru I had purchased in the fall of 1988. I would start calling the brown wagon "My little brown oven" after this trip, because I had no air conditioning in this car, and it would hit 100 degrees outside. It was not a pleasant trip.

We stopped somewhere along the road for breakfast because I was falling asleep. Megadoses of coffee and some protein, along with closing my eyes for a bit seemed to help. We didn't spend too much time in the restaurant because of the cats. As soon as I could, I got out and let them out for some air. I had bought harnesses and collars for them, hoping to walk them during pit stops, but they would have none of it. If I took them out at all, they sought shade. They wouldn't even try to use the litter box.

I wanted to stop at some historical sites along the way to give Ray some education: Little Big Horn, Mount Rushmore, Crazy Horse. I had reservations at a Super 8 that had a pool in a town whose name now escapes me. After driving around for a half hour and failing to find it despite following directions, I gave up, my head pounding too much to try any more.

We ended up staying in a no-name motel that was cheap, clean, had two beds and a shower but no pool. It was still very nice. The woman who owned the place with her husband took Ray to the city pool while I took a cold shower and some ibuprofen and put a cold washcloth on my head. The cats dove under the bed for shade, but eventually came out and joined me on the bed.

That night, Ray was happy to see the owners had some fireworks. I told him to keep his hands off and stand back. He had hurt himself once with fireworks and I didn't want him hurt on my watch. We had dinner before the fireworks show, hit the sack early after the long drive and planned not to get up too early.

The next day, we had a short drive to the Mount Rushmore area. We got to our motel, checked the cats in and did our sightseeing. I didn't want to leave the cats in a hot car all day. Kittle and Cinnamon hung out under the A/C unit. Ray and I saw Mount Rushmore and Crazy Horse.

On our third day, we hit Wall Drug, of course, then headed on our last leg. We stopped at a gas station in Fort Pierre, to hit the restrooms and get gas. I took out the cats over by a couple of trees near a picnic area. When Ray got back from his restroom stop, I told him to watch the cats.

I came back and didn't see Cinnamon. I asked what happened to him. Ray said, "He went inside the tree." I didn't quite understand, until he pointed to the big truck tire that was around the tree. Cinnamon had climbed inside the tire, seeking shade. Crazy black cat! I had to get on the ground and pull him out, and he didn't come willingly, either. I had scratches and dirt on my arms and legs.

So we then headed up the highway north toward Hwy. 12, which went east to Aberdeen. Along the way, of course, we hit construction (but AAA sent me this way and didn't mention construction). The road was torn up and it had rained, so it was all mud. We stopped once, so then I had mud on my legs, too.

It was after 3 p.m. when I got to Aberdeen. My hair was windblown, I had mud on my legs and arms, and my arms were scratched. I came into the newspaper looking for Ron Feickert, the sports editor, and Cindy Eikamp, the editor. Cindy would have the information I needed to get into my apartment. I thought, she's going to look at me and regret ever having hired me.

Both were happy to see me. Because the Aberdeen American News is a morning paper, most people were just getting started on their shifts, especially the sports crew. They introduced me around, as is, mud and all. The main thing most wanted to know was where we found the mud, because it had been dry there.

Cindy gave me the key to the apartment and we went to get settled in with the few meager possessions I had. It would be good to be in one place again, even if it meant sleeping on a floor for a couple of weeks. Seeing new places is fun, but being a gypsy isn't all it's cracked up to be.